


Candy Girl

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle owns a candy store, Candy, Dessert & Sweets, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Gold isn't happy about it at first, No Angst, Porn With Plot, Rumbelle - Freeform, Started as a song drabble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new store moving in across the street from Gold's Antiques, and Archibald Gold is not happy. Grumbling, he heads over there to give the proprietor a piece of his mind, but she feeds him a piece of cake.<br/>2016 & 2017 TEA NOMINEE FOR BEST ROMANCE - FIRST MEETING<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sugar Shack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rumpledspinster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledspinster/gifts).



> Started as a drabble for my sweet Tumblr sister Rumpledspinster, for a Rumbelle Music Challenge. Song prompt: Sugar Sugar by the Archies.
> 
> I do not own Once Upon A Time or any of its characters. The plot belongs to me.

“What. Is. That?“ Archibald Gold grumbled, his handsome face marred by a displeased frown. His son followed the line of his long, elegant finger through the store window of Gold’s Antiques where a giant plastic lollipop was being erected on the storefront across the street.

“It’s a candy store,” Bae chirped, returning to his coloring book. “Called the Sugar Shack.”

“It’s a monstrosity,” Gold snapped. “That huge, swirly disk they’re mounting on that Sweet Shack is blocking out the sun.”

“Sugar Shack,” Bae corrected, flipping through his coloring book for a fresh page and choosing a red crayon. “It opens tomorrow.  
  
“It won’t open at all, if I have anything to say about it!” Gold threatened. “Come along, Baelfire, we’re going to meet the proprietor of this _establishment_.” He spit out the word like it was filthy rag.  
  
“But Papa…” the boy’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “You love sweets.”  
  
“Irrelevant,” Gold barked, strutting across the road like he owned the town—which he practically did. “And I like cake, pie, cobbler…baked goods. Not that horrid garbage that gets stuck in your teeth.” He flashed his gold tooth to illustrate his point.

When exactly had the town council managed to slip the approval for this little business past him, he wondered. Realization dawned and he growled. Damned appendicitis. Next time he needed emergency surgery he would just go ahead and die. The moment he turned his back... he was certain that Mayor Mills was involved in this debacle.

Gripping his cane like a weapon, Gold swaggered across the street with swift purpose while Bae scrambled to keep up with his father’s quick steps.

As they approached the doors, a young woman in a tiny yellow skirt, crisp white blouse, and impossibly high red heels brought them up short. With chestnut curls cascading down her back, brilliant blue eyes, and cherry red lips, she looked…edible…better than the confections she was planning to sell inside.

“Hi!” She greeted cheerfully, practically bouncing over to them. Gold stared at her slender, shapely legs. “My name’s Belle! We’re not open yet, but I hope you’ll join us for our grand opening celebration tomorrow.”

Gold gulped and blushed at the sound of her accented voice, cheeks as crimson as the girl’s four-inch stilettos. His Italian silk trousers suddenly felt impossibly tight and his chest constricted as he tried in vain to suck in air. Why was he so affected by this slip of a girl? He shifted his weight to his bad leg, allowing the pain to distract him from other physical discomforts.

“Hey,” Bae replied, breaking the silence and earning an irritated look from his father.

“I demand to see the owner of this establishment.” Gold recovered, his tone imperious.

“That’s me. Belle French, Storybrooke’s new Candy Girl.” She laughed melodiously at her sweet little pun and Baelfire joined in.  
  
“I’m Bae,” the child offered. “I’m seven.”

Gold tossed his son another irritated look. So much for familial loyalty. There’d be no dessert for him this evening!

“Hi, Bae.” Belle winked audaciously at Gold before returning her attention to the child. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is my papa,” the boy replied proudly. “He owns Gold’s Antiques across the street.”  
  
“ _You’re_ Mr. Gold? I’ve heard so much about you. Namely that you’re quite the businessman,“ Belle gushed. “Tell me, what do you think of my sign?”  
  
Gold craned his neck to consider the massive expanse of colored plastic. “It’s a giant sucker,” Gold said stupidly. This interaction was not going according to plan.  
  
“It’s a whirly pop,” Belle explained kindly. “Come on,” she offered in an excited stage whisper, linking her arm through Gold’s and pushing open the door. “Let me show you around.”  
  
Gesturing as she dragged him through the brightly lit shoppe, Belle pointed at displays of artisan chocolates, old-fashioned candies, and artfully designed jars of honey. “The honey’s from my own bees,” she confided as she beckoned them to a cozy alcove of café tables. “Come and have a treat with me.”

Bae grinned broadly and sat down immediately, nearly toppling a chair in his excitement. Laughing at the boy’s exuberance, Belle poured a mug of rich, house-made hot chocolate topped with a mountain of fresh whipped cream, shaved chocolate, and Mexican cinnamon. Serving it with a flourish, she smiled at Bae fondly, then turned her attention back to Gold. “I’ll be right back,” she told him, rushing toward the back of the store. “Have a seat.”

Insistent on standing, Gold scowled at his son who was now sporting a ridiculous chocolate moustache. Children were so easily manipulated, he thought bitterly. A little sugar and a pretty face and Bae was practically eating out of this girl’s hand.

“Ah,” the candy store owner sighed happily, returning from the kitchen in the back of the building. She held something behind her back. “My special recipe. I think it’s finally ready to be unveiled tomorrow at the opening.”

She was practically jumping up and down with glee, Gold thought wryly. What could possibly be so miraculous about candy?

He was about to find out.

Whipping a plate laden with a warm apple dumpling, caramel sauce, and vanilla bean gelato out from behind her back, Belle waved the confection under his nose. Watching his nostrils flare, she smiled wickedly and tugged on Gold’s tie. “Did I mention that I bake, too?” she asked slyly.

Gold’s warm brown eyes darkened with desire. He was a terrible pushover for anything sweet and warm from out of the oven.

“I know you want some,” she said seductively, guiding him to a tiny corner table. “We’ll be over here, Baelfire,” she called, and the boy nodded. “Enjoy your hot chocolate, sweetie.”

And Gold could no more stop himself from following her than he could stop the sun from rising.

Once they were both comfortably seated, she scooped up a gooey spoonful of tender, sweet, hot apple and flaky, buttery crust. “Ready?” Belle invited, holding the spoon aloft.

Gold opened his mouth to accept the bite. He closed his eyes in bliss as flavors of fruit, brown sugar, vanilla, and nutmeg exploded on his tongue. “Good?” the temptress asked, delivering another mouthful. He groaned in delight, losing himself in the incredible taste.

After his third bite, Gold opened eyes drunk with sweetness, focusing on her lovely face. “You’re not eating any,” he prompted gently. “Please have some.”

“I’d love to,” she said, scooting closer and resting her free hand on his thigh. He looked astonished, but did not recoil or resist her touch. Belle offered him yet another taste of dumpling and he looked at her quizzically once more. “Trust me,” she purred.

Nodding, he opened his mouth. As soon as he closed his lips around the spoon, she removed it, and covered his mouth with hers. Surprised, he stiffened, then obeyed the gentle pressure against his lips. Tentatively, Belle delved inside his mouth to taste him and share the sugary bite of pastry.

Gold groaned his approval, angling his head for a deeper kiss. She dropped the spoon to the table with a clatter and wound her arms around his neck to press him closer, threading her fingers through his long hair. Belle was even sweeter than the delectable dumpling she had served him. At last he lifted his lashes and gazed into her sapphire eyes. Mirroring his own arousal, they were dreamy, inviting, and as clear as a lake beneath a summer sky.

“Papa?”

_Oh._

Gold wriggled uncomfortably and pulled out of Belle’s arms. Bae was here. Waiting. Watching. Right next to the table where his father was snogging a neighboring store owner half his age.

“How was the hot chocolate, son?” Gold asked, praying that the boy didn’t ask any more questions.

“Delicious!” The boy rubbed his full, slightly rounded tummy. “I really like Belle’s store, Papa. Do we still need to yell at her?”

From the mouths of babes. Gold colored in shame. He _had_ come here to humiliate her, and the guileless entrepreneur had turned the tables on him but good. “Of course not, son. Why don’t you go pick out a few treats for us to take home and we can help Belle get a head start on profitability?”

“Is that business speak for ‘We can buy stuff?’”

Gold nodded, grinning.

“Yay!” Bae cheered, wrapping his arms around Belle’s waist for a hug.

Waiting until Bae was across the store choosing candy bars, Gold took a deep breath. Asking for forgiveness was never easy. “Belle, I owe you an apology. My son was correct; my intentions today were not honorable. I did come here to make trouble, but you have offered us nothing except kindness and hospitality. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” she said, holding out a hand so they could rise from the table together. “Your reputation precedes you. People in town…they’re afraid of you, Mr. Gold.”

“I hope you won’t let that deter you,” he smiled, squeezing her warm fingers.

“Now that I know you can be bought with a baked good? Not a chance.” Belle threw her head back and laughed, and it was one of the most enthralling sights Gold had ever seen.

“Thank you, Belle. I’ve never eaten an apple dumpling to equal yours. And the other part, ah, that was wonderful, too.” Gold reddened. Crap. He was no good at this.

But she seemed to appreciate his bumbling compliment. Cupping his jaw with her hand, she pressed her mouth to his and licked an errant sugar crystal off his upper lip.

“You’re very welcome,” she smiled against his mouth, “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said quietly, ghosting his thumb over her satin cheek. “See you tomorrow, Candy Girl.”

 

###

 


	2. Grand Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "See you tomorrow, Candy Girl," Gold had promised. It's Belle's big day--the grand opening celebration at the Sugar Shack! After their searing kisses from the day before, Belle has been anxiously waiting for Mr. Gold to show up at her store. So where is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I never expected such a response from Rumpledspinster's Rumbelle song prompt, "Sugar Sugar." Thank you so much for your kind words about Candy Girl! The rating on this fic has gone up to M, but I doubt you will mind. :-)
> 
> For my 400 follower celebration on Tumblr, this Part II is a thank you gift to followers and readers! Enjoy!

He hadn’t come.

She’d waited all day long for his arrival. All day long to smile into those warm, chocolatey eyes. All day long to watch that dimpled smirk—somehow more adorable with caramel sauce smeared on his chin—light up his handsome face. All day long to listen to that husky, accented voice that made her palms sweat and her mouth run dry.

“See you tomorrow, Candy Girl.” Full of promise, hope, and something more, those were the last words he'd spoken yesterday.

So why hadn’t he come? 

After all her hard work and long hours of preparation, the Sugar Shack's grand opening should have made Belle happy, excited, even giddy. But Mr. Gold's absence made the victory anything but sweet.

It took all her chutzpah to muscle through the long, tiring day—but she had done it. Pinching her cheeks till they bloomed, Belle French had flung open the doors and welcomed the neighborhood to tour the shop and buy her sweets. 

Clad in her favorite dress, towering heels, and a bright smile, she cut the ceremonial ribbon, greeted customers, showcased her handmade candies and baked goods, and even braved a photo session with Mayor Mills for a feature in the  _Storybrooke Mirror_. 

As she chattered, refilled drinks, and served hors d’oeuvres and confections, Belle alternated between casting nervous glances at the door and the buffet table.

Nestled in the heart of the tower of treats was her crowning glory—the Chocolate Caramel Crunch Cake. For years Belle had labored over the recipe, but she never came close to perfecting it. Until she met Mr. Gold. He had inspired the final creation and the torte’s edible gold flakes were added in his honor. Belle had stayed up the entire night perfecting that cake to have it ready for today’s grand opening, and she couldn’t wait for him to taste it.

One customer—Gaston something-or-other—had strode up to the display and boldly removed the protective glass cake dome, demanding a large wedge. Belle flushed in anger, recalling his annoyed, haughty face as she’d slapped his hand away. In public. Yes, people stared. But Belle didn’t care a whit what that arrogant buffoon or anyone else thought. That cake was for Mr. Gold. 

But he hadn’t come.

She’d nearly shouted in happiness when she spotted young Bae, certain that his father was close behind. But no, he had been escorted to the store by his babysitter, Astrid. Was sending Bae home with a three pound bag filled with chocolate hearts too desperate? She hoped not. It had taken all Belle's willpower not to pump the poor child for information about his papa.

At last, the event had ended. Against the glow of the setting sun, she’d closed out the cash register and locked the doors until morning. Day One was behind her. And still, he hadn’t come.

Digging down to her toes, Belle tried to summon her fury. But there wasn’t any anger available. She was just…hurt. Wallowing in self-pity, she stuffed a chocolate-covered pretzel in her mouth and crunched furiously, chasing it with a couple of her signature salted caramels for good measure.

By the time she'd cleaned up from the festivities, darkness had settled over Main Street and all the neighboring stores were closed. Belle peeked through her window to peer inside Gold’s Antiques directly across the way. The lights were still on. _That meant he was there_. 

Well, she decided, brushing pretzel crumbs and multi-colored sprinkles off her dress. If she wanted him, she would just have to go get him.

Belle grabbed the cake, her chokehold on the glass stand steadying her nervousness. Oh, she acted bold and brave, but it was just that—an act. Beneath it all, she was just as insecure as a certain antiques purveyor she was getting to know. Marching across the street with her head held high, she was determined to tell Mr. Archibald Gold exactly what she thought about being stood up on this most important day.

Gold’s sign was flipped to “Closed,” but luckily the door was still unlocked. Kicking her shoes off her aching feet, she slipped inside, standing uncertainly in the middle of the showroom floor.

At the sound of the bell, Gold came out of the back room, a look of surprise chasing across his handsome features. “Belle. Hello. I must have forgotten to lock the door.” He laughed nervously, rushing on. “Not that you aren't welcome anytime. Was your first day, ah, profitable?”

Belle gnawed on her lower lip; seeing his dear face after hours of watching and waiting made her tremble with longing and uncertainty. Perhaps he didn’t feel the same way. But if she didn’t ask, she’d never know. Taking a deep breath, she pressed on. 

“I’m not here to discuss business,” she said, setting the cake down. “No, actually, I am. What _business_ did you have kissing me like that and not showing up at my celebration today?”

He stared back at her for a moment, then scanned the shop as if the words he needed would come from one of the display cases. “Um,” he stuttered, his gaze landing on the cake, “what’s that you have there?”

“It’s a cake. I made it for you. Stop trying to change the subject, Gold.” Belle’s hands flew to her hips as she realized what he was doing.

“You kissed me first,” he blurted stubbornly.

“And you didn’t like it?” she challenged sweetly, closing the distance between them.

“Of course I did! It…you…are glorious,” he confessed. “I’ve never felt that way before. Never expected in a thousand lifetimes that I would.”

“Then where were you today?” she probed again. “You said you’d be there.”

Sliding her hands up his shoulders, she dropped her arms as he shook his head slightly and stepped back.

“Oh, Belle,” he moaned, his accent thick with regret. “You are young, beautiful, intelligent. Me? I’m a miserable, nasty old man with a boy to care for. People in this town dislike me, fear me, even. Already Bae has to endure my reputation. I won’t saddle you with it, too. I’m no good for you, sweetheart.”

 _Sweetheart_ , she thought happily, her hope renewing even as he denied there was a chance. _He called me sweetheart._

“Well, I think Bae is wonderful. He clearly loves you very much despite what people say. Let the tongues wag! I’m not afraid of you. Not even a little. So why don’t you let me be the judge of what’s good for me, hmmm?” she chided gently, removing the cake’s protective lid. A little convincing was what he needed, and she wasn’t above using this particular weapon in her arsenal. “Do you have a knife? If not, a fork will do.”

“This way,” he invited, motioning her toward the back room.

Belle and her cake followed him into a spacious workspace, where dusty shelves lining the walls were littered with antiques and projects in progress. A small, cozy bed sat in the corner.

Clattering in a cupboard, he produced a knife, plates, cutlery, even fine linen napkins. “Shall I make tea?” he offered.

“That would be lovely,” Belle replied. Staying busy as they spoke seemed to ease him. “Where’s Bae this evening while you’re hiding from me in your store?” she asked neutrally.

“Ouch,” he winced. “Babysitter. And I wasn’t hiding. It’s inventory day. Did you meet Astrid at the opening?”

“I did. Lovely young lady. Seems to have a crush on Leroy Kline,” Belle observed, cutting a generous slice of cake and sitting down on the cot. “Come here, please,” she beckoned, patting the space beside her.

Gold fussed with the teapot, refusing to meet her eyes. “You’re right,” he whispered, his expression pained. “I was hiding.”

“Hey,” she said gently. “It’s ok to be afraid. As long as you don’t let fear stop you from taking that first step. I’ll be honest—it took every ounce of my courage to come over here tonight, especially when I was so forward with you yesterday. But I’m here. I’m here because I care.”

Overcome by emotion, Belle began to cry, but she continued her appeal. “I know we barely know each other, but the moment I met you and Bae…I felt I’d come home. I think—I’m falling in love with you.”

“Belle,” he whispered urgently, limping quickly to her side and easing down on the mattress next to her. “I care, too. I care very much.” He caressed her face with his calloused thumbs, gently catching the tears that fell from her sapphire eyes.

“Enough blubbering,” she scolded herself. “Let’s move on to more pleasant pastimes. Here,” she sniffled through a watery smile and held a forkful of cake to his lips, “I’m dying to know what you think of your cake.”

Accepting the bite, he closed his eyes, delighting in the burst of flavors on his palate—dark chocolate, coffee, caramel, crispy filling, and delicate wisps of sugared gold disappeared on his tongue.

Seeing the bliss on his face was by far the best part of Belle’s day. He liked it! As he chewed the cake, all his worry lines melted away, making him appear almost childlike in his innocent exuberance.

“More?” she asked, holding out another scoop of the heavenly concoction.

“Mmmhmm,” he agreed, his eyes still closed. “You have some, too.” Belle placed another forkful in his mouth and took a bite of her own.

“Is it good?” she teased in a sing song voice. But she was only partly kidding. Belle wanted, needed his approval so badly.

“I’m calling Sheriff Swan,” he declared, swallowing the luxurious dessert and opening his eyes, “Because that should be illegal. _Good?_ It’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“The best thing?” she teased, puckering her lips and closing her eyes in an unspoken invitation. She wanted him to kiss her more than she wanted her next breath, but now he had to be the one to decide.

A tense moment passed between them as she waited, trying not to peek. Would he accept the love she was offering or would he push her away again?

At last she felt him free the plate from her hands and heard a low thud as he set it down. Fanning her face, his breath was cool, sweet, and perfumed with chocolate, making her break out in gooseflesh. Belle’s gut twisted with need and she fisted her damp hands in her lap, wondering what he would do next.

Just as the longing became unbearable, his mouth met hers, molten hot and chocolatey. A current of desire raced through her veins and she moaned softly. What was it about this man that demolished all her defenses? In his arms, she could hold nothing back. Tenderly, he cupped her neck with his warm palms, massaging her pulse points in a rhythm that mimicked the flicks of his tongue. Belle wrapped her arms around his neck, forgetting time and place as she lost herself in the beauty of their kiss.

Pulling her down to lay beside him on the cot, Gold caressed her collarbone, gradually moving lower and lower until at last he cupped her breasts in his hands, their centers responding instantly to his gentle yet insistent touch.

“Yes, ah, yes,” Belle encouraged, arching her back as he dragged his mouth away from hers to plant hot kisses on her cheeks, eyelids, and finally sucking on the ivory column of her throat.

She could feel him, hard and insistent against her own aching core, and she reveled in the sensation of wanting and being wanted. Parting her thighs on a sigh, Belle lifted her hips so he would know how much she desired him, too.

In the dim light of the little shop, their clothes seemed to fall away of their own accord, sliding to the floor as they explored each other.

Poised above her, Gold lifted his head from their heated tangle of tongues and limbs to look at Belle in loving disbelief. Her face was flushed, her lush lips opened on a throaty moan. Her responsiveness to his loving was like nothing he had ever known. Could all this sweetness truly be for him? “Darling,” he begged, “please look at me.”

Belle opened eyes hazy with need, her heart flipping over as he wordlessly asked for permission to make her his. “Make love to me,” she requested, tears of wonder leaking from her eyes at his tenderness.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Finding a rhythm as old as time itself, they murmured endearments as they gave, took, and poured their souls into one another.

“I stand corrected,” he said wryly, as they lay basking in the afterglow. “You’re sweeter than any dessert I’ve ever tasted. But that cake _is_ exquisite, especially because of all the care you put into creating it. I’m so touched, Belle. Did you really make that all for me?”

“It’s Mr. Gold’s Chocolate Caramel Crunch Cake,” she explained, popping up on an elbow to grin at him. “I’ve been working on that for years, but yesterday I finally got it right. _You_ were my inspiration. It’s sweet and smooth, just a little crunchy, and with a hint of darkness and mystery. And gold, of course. Just like you.”

Laughing softly, he cradled her against his chest. “You’re incorrigible. I heard you almost beat a poor fellow to death today for having the audacity to ask for a slice of that cake.”

Giggling, she gave him a playful swat. “How did you find out about that?”

“Sweetheart, don’t you know about my reputation? I’m a very powerful man,” he growled into her ear. “Or did you need another demonstration?”

“First thing tomorrow,” she decided on a yawn. “It’s been quite a day and I’m terribly sleepy. You wore me out. But I’m going to stay right here with you until tomorrow comes, ok?” Belle cuddled closer, nuzzling his neck with her lips.

“Aye,” he agreed drowsily, stroking her hair as he slid into slumber. “Tomorrow."

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cough* Looks like Gold better get Astrid to stay overnight with Bae!
> 
> What did you think?


	3. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bae walks in on the aftermath of Belle and Gold's nocturnal activities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a fun story to write and I felt inspired to add on. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> When I wrote this originally, I gave Gold the first name of Archibald. That means there are two of them in Storybrooke, so Gold will be known as "Arch" in this story to avoid confusion.

“Shortbread crust,” Belle muttered. “Wild Maine blueberries. Vanilla bean pastry cream. Brûléed meringue.”

A child’s giggle rang out through the quiet workroom, and Belle cracked an eyelid to squint into the faces of Bae and his babysitter.

“Astrid! Bae!” Belle croaked, her voice hoarse with surprise. Nestled at her back, Gold still slumbered in the cot, breathing out soft snores.

She’d been dozing, steeped in the most delightful dream about creating a new dessert, her lover watching her work in the kitchen, he fully dressed in one of his trademark three-piece suits while she was clad in nothing but a crimson apron. She’d need to write the recipe down before it evaporated, but right now she had a more urgent matter to deal with.

Like the fact that Baeden Gold had just walked in on his father sleeping with the candy shop owner they’d met just yesterday.

Gold moaned in his sleep and pressed his front against her back. As awareness seeped into her languid, sex-sated bones, Belle realized that his arms were wrapped snuggly around her breasts, his cock hot and insistent against her backside while his son and Astrid Lindgren watched every move and listened to every groan and sigh. How long had they been standing here? Now fully awake, Belle peered at them again as they stared.

She had a sudden inkling of what a goldfish felt like.

“Hi Belle,” Bae said, his small face wreathed in a smile. “Where are your clothes?”

Astrid coughed into her hand, and her chocolate eyes sparkled with amusement.

“That is an excellent question, Bae,” Belle stalled, punctuating her words with a swift elbow to Gold’s ribs.

“Ow!” Gold mumbled, rubbing at his injured stomach with his eyes still closed. “What’d ya do that fer?”

“Never mind, I see them,” Bae said, his gaze roving the wooden floor where a shirt, skirt, tie, and trousers were strewn about in haphazard piles.

Astrid toed Belle’s bra under the bed before Bae could spot it, and Belle threw her a grateful look.

“You need to wake up now, Arch. Baeden and Astrid are here,” Belle said, poking him again. She yanked herself free of his embrace and sat up, hugging the sheet to her chest. Trust a man to sleep like the dead at the worst possible time. Belle didn’t care how shrewd a businessman he was; there was no way in hell he was weaseling his way out of _this_ conversation.

“Bae!” At last Gold’s eyes snapped open and he jerked up in bed, his bleary gaze swinging between his son and babysitter in confusion. The blanket covering his nakedness dropped to his narrow waist. “Why are you here at the shop?”

Like Pavlov’s dog, Belle’s mouth watered at the sight of his lean chest, and she forced her wandering attention back to their visitors. _Focus, Belle, for God’s sake!_

“You didn’t come home for dinner,” Astrid said. “We stopped by here earlier, but you were…occupied…so we went back to your house. After a while, I called the shop phone, I called your mobile, I texted you…” The sitter trailed off, giving the back of Bae’s head a meaningful glance.

“Fine,” Gold grumbled, holding up a hand. “Point taken. I missed your calls.”

“Yeah, when we came in before, Astrid said you were busy in the back and couldn’t be um, distered,” Bae said.

“Do you mean disturbed?” Belle asked.

“Right. Disturbed. Because you were praying and stuff.”

Gold looked startled. “Praying?”

“Yep, I heard you. You kept saying ‘Oh, God!’ ‘Oh, God!’ Then you yelled Belle’s name real loud.” Bae shrugged, seeming to accept his father’s sudden religious fervor, then his eyes went wide. “Papa! You’re not wearing any clothes, either. How come?”

Chewing on her inner cheek, Belle waited for Gold to provide an explanation for the mess they’d created. Or maybe she had created it. She’d thrown herself at him—she and her sinful chocolate caramel crunch cake. Now she was naked in his bed while his guileless seven-year-old asked perfectly reasonable questions, and she didn’t have a single answer.

 Just desserts indeed.

She wanted to teleport back across the street and shove her face in the blast chiller to cool her flushed cheeks. Maybe whipping up a few thousand batches of candy would relieve her embarrassment. In about 10 years or so.

“Papa?” Bae looked between them, waiting.

“Um….” Gold floundered.

“Tea!” Belle said, her eyes landing on the forgotten pot. “Your father and I were boiling the kettle to make ourselves a cup, but the tea spilled all over our clothes. I’m rather clumsy, you know, and when your papa made a joke I dropped the pot.”

“That’s right,” Gold said, nodding. “Then Belle was cold, and we didn’t have any tea to warm our bellies since we spilled it all, so we got into the cot together under the blankets to keep her warm.”

“In the middle of summer?” Bae asked, sounding skeptical.

“Low body temperature,” Belle blurted, her laughter high and shrill in the silent shop. “Been a problem for me ever since I was your age, honey. My mama used to put me to bed with a hot water bottle.”

“Oh, so it’s like a sleepover. Papa’s hot water bottle was keeping you warm. That makes sense,” Bae said wagging his head with a wisdom far beyond his years.

Gold made a strangled sound, and Astrid smothered a laugh.

“Something like that,” Belle said, thankful to have satisfied the boy’s curiosity for the moment.

Bae turned to his father. “Does this mean I can have a sleepover party with Emma?” he asked clasping his chubby hands expectantly.

“It does not,” his father growled. “Little boys and little girls cannot have sleepovers together.”

He wrinkled his nose in confusion. “But Emma’s my friend. Besides, isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“These were ah, extenuating circumstances,” Gold said, raking a hand through his hair. “Also, Belle and I are adults.”

“Speaking of adult relationships,” Astrid interrupted, “ordinarily I would have loved to keep Bae for as long as you like—overnight even—but I have a date tonight.”

“Leroy Kline,” Belle said, latching onto the change of subject. Astrid and Leroy’s flirtatious banter at this afternoon’s grand opening of the Sugar Shack had been warm enough to melt her homemade saltwater taffy.

Astrid winked. “It seems like all kinds of good things have come out of your new store, Belle.”

“Indeed,” Gold said, clearing his throat. “Astrid? Would you mind taking Bae across the street to Belle’s to choose a treat?”

“Anything he wants,” Belle said, stretching her arm to pull the shop key from her handbag. “We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Aye, as soon as we clean the tea stains out of our clothes and get dressed,” Gold promised, maintaining the façade.

“Anything I want?” Bae said, his eyes lighting up like the Fourth of July.

 “That’s right. On the house.” Belle took a deep breath. “After that, what would you and your dad say to dinner at Granny’s?”

“I would be delighted, Belle,” Gold said. “Son, what do you think?”

“Hamburgers and chocolate milkshakes?” the boy asked with an adorable slant of his head.

“Absolutely,” Belle said dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I have one rule about dinner.”

“What is it?” he asked, leaning in.

“Always eat dessert first.”

“I like that rule,” Bae said, accepting Astrid’s hand as they turned around and left the workroom.

xoxo

“What just happened?” Belle moaned, burying her head in her arms after Astrid and Bae departed.

“I forgot to lock the shop?” Gold quipped, sliding his black silk boxers over his hips.

“That’s not what I meant,” she snapped, pulling the blanket up to her neck.

“Oh.” A muscle ticked in his jaw and he took a step backward, the small action making her feel cold and bereft. “You regret it then—being with me.” His words were tight as he waved a hand at the cot.

“No!” she said, uncaring about her nakedness as she leaped out of bed and flung herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight before threading her fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “I’m not the least bit sorry we made love. It’s just that…I wasn’t prepared to answer questions about us so soon, especially from Bae.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” His forehead wrinkled in an adorable frown. Like father, like son.

Belle sighed. No one had ever made her feel this incredible, but they had only known each other for two days. She didn’t know where they were headed, but if her presence in his life was going to cause problems between father and son, she would walk away now—before someone got hurt.

Her heart was already in serious danger.

His arms remained stiff at his sides and she cupped his cheek, stroking her thumb along his jawline. “Listen, I really, really like you. But Baeden is the most important person in your world. I don’t want this thing with us to come between you two.”    

“There’s an us?” he asked, his puppy-dog brown eyes hopeful as his posture relaxed. His hands encircled her waist, kneading the tender flesh.

“If you want there to be, yes,” she said, leaning into his touch. “But what about Bae?”

“I’ll talk to him. But Belle, I know my boy. He adores you already,” he said.

“How do you know?”

Gold raised a dark eyebrow. “Besides the fact that he’s talked of nothing and no one except you since we crossed the street to meet you yesterday morning?”

“Hmmph,” she said, ridiculously pleased with his answer. She stuck out her lower lip in a mock pout. “He just wants me for my candy.”

“Can you blame him?” Gold asked, his eyes hot on her mouth. “I’ve tasted your candy myself, and it’s exquisite.”

“Flatterer.”

 “And you did just invite us on a date,” he reminded her, hands on the curve of her buttocks as he backed her toward the wall.

“I did,” she said, the predatory gleam in his eyes causing her to shiver. “I’m looking forward to getting to know both of you much better.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with us,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth turning up in a delicious smirk as he wedged her into a corner, blocking her escape.

She was trapped. Happily.

“Well, Mr. Gold,” she teased, snaking her hand down between them to touch him. “Now that you’ve had your way with me in the back of your shop, what are you going to do with me next?”

“I’ll think of something,” he said, his grin wolfish in the waning light. Suddenly, he sank to his knees and pressed a kiss to the damp curls between her thighs.

“We told them five minutes,” she said, even as she threaded her fingers through his hair to pull him closer to where a sweet-hot ache was rising.

“So we did,” he said, moving his mouth over her center.

“What about your knee?” she squealed, her breath growing shallow and quick as he touched her most intimate place. "Oh!"

xoxo

“Be careful now,” Granny warned, setting three frosty glasses brimming with milkshakes and frothy whipped cream on their table.

Belle, Gold, and Bae were ensconced in the Golds mens’ favorite booth at the diner, thick cheeseburgers, baskets of fries, and sodas already covering most of the laminate surface.

“How does everything taste?” Granny asked. “Anything else I can get you, folks?”

“It’s all delicious,” Belle said. “Thank you.”

Bae took a long, deep draw on his shake. “It’s great, and it’s especially good that you told Papa and Belle not to spill.”

“Why’s that?” Granny asked, a hand on her plump hip.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Because Papa and Belle are messy when they get together. They made tea earlier, and they made such a huge mess that they had to take off all their clothes and lay down in the back of the shop.”

“Is that a fact?” asked Granny, her blue irises sharp over her spectacles.

“Yeah. Even their underwear were on the floor.” He shook his head. “Not sure how they got tea down there.”

“I think we’d better take dinner to go,” Belle said.

“Good idea,” said Gold. “Check, please.”

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Granny's like the bartender of Storybrooke. She hears all juicy crap--whether she wants to or not!


	4. Smartie Pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary Margaret Nolan commissions Belle to make candy jewelry for Emma's back-to-school birthday bash, inspiring her to make a candy-laced lingerie surprise for Gold. Meanwhile, Gold has a man-to-man talk with Bae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the reader suggestions that Belle needed some candy underwear coincided with A Monthly Rumbelling's vibrating panties prompt, I couldn't stop myself.
> 
> Thanks to Magnoliatattoo for all your suggestions and being an awesome beta. This one's for you, babe!

“Do you think candy jewelry will be fun for the party? Mary Margaret Nolan asked. “Not boring or uncool?” Emma’s mother tapped her fingers on the glass display case as she flipped through Belle’s cake catalog. “It’s so hard to keep pace with what children like these days—even the young ones like Bae and Emma.”

“Mrs. Nolan, I have it on good authority that homemade sweets never go out of style,” Belle said. With a fond smile, she gestured to the framed photograph of her mother hanging on the back wall of the shop. Mama had taught Belle everything she knew about making candy. If only she could see her now, running her own store!

“I’ll make something special—fit for a princess,” Belle promised. “Emma’s birthday party will be the talk of Storybrooke and the perfect event to kick off a new school year.”

“I knew I could count on you, Belle.” Mary Margaret flashed a smile. “Let’s not stand on ceremony, though. I think we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other now that, well, you know. Will you call me Mary Margaret?”

“I’d be delighted.” Belle nodded. As the new girl in town, she was pleased to make another friend, especially one as well-liked and respected as Mary Margaret.

It had been an idyllic four months in Storybrooke since she’d opened the Sugar Shack and started dating Arch Gold. Business was booming, love was blooming, and for the first time since her mother’s death over five years ago, Belle’s life seemed to be falling into place. Now Mary Margaret was requesting custom orders. Perhaps with a high-profile client like her, other customers would flock to Belle's store to do the same.

“And how are things—” Mary Margaret’s voice was hushed as she shifted her gaze toward the front window to look at the antique store across the street—“with Mr. Gold?”

“Mary Margaret, you don’t need to whisper,” Belle said, suppressing a smile. “Arch won’t jump out of a cake and cane you for daring to say his name.”

“I know that,” Mary Margaret said with a nervous laugh. “I do. It’s just that Mr. Gold has always been a solitary creature. Devoted to Baeden of course, but somewhat standoffish with the rest of us. Perhaps we haven’t done our part to welcome him into the community the way we should? I mean Emma and Baeden are wonderful friends, but maybe dinner at our house sometime...” She trailed off with a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m rambling. What I mean to say is, I’m happy. It’s good to see him spending time with you. I think you’re a good influence on him and Bae.”

“Thank you,” Belle said, thrilled by the compliment. “I’m happy, too.”

“Look at the time,” Mary Margaret exclaimed, glancing at the clock. “I’ve kept you long enough.”

“No trouble at all,” Belle said, patting the other woman’s arm. “We had a lot to discuss. I’m excited to start working on the birthday celebration. Seven years old! Incredible.”

Belle walked a smiling Mary Margaret to the door and locked it behind her. She donned an apron and rushed back to the kitchen.

She couldn’t wait to begin making candy jewelry.

* * *

Summer in the Gold house was drawing to a close.

It was the Saturday before school started, as well as the day of Emma’s birthday and back-to-school bash. Baeden would be starting first grade. Gold’s eyes grew misty at the thought; gone were the short kindergarten days when Bae would come bouncing into the shop for lunch before his babysitter Astrid took him home for an afternoon filled with Legos, games, and reading. Now the boy would be in school all day long. New influences would swirl around him, coloring and widening his small world.

Gold sighed. He was going to miss keeping his son safe and close and all to himself, but Bae was growing up. As a parent, he had a duty to prepare Bae for everything he might see and hear in the coming year, both at school and at home. Hence their spur-of-the-moment sex ed talk.

“Do you understand everything we’ve talked about, Bae?” Gold eyed his son’s profile as they sat at the kitchen counter eating lunch.

The boy chewed a bite of his sandwich and nodded. “Girls are delicate and special. Like flowers. Boys are bees and we have to be careful with our stingers and only use them on our most favorite specialist flower.”

“When you’re older,” Gold reminded him, wincing at the analogy. Damn, it was the best he could do.

“It sounds gross,” Bae confided cheerfully before taking another huge bite of peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. It wasn’t the healthiest choice, Arch knew, but it was a concession to the end of summer. Wholesome food could wait another day or two.

“That’s excellent news,” Gold said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, longing for the days when diaper changes and nap schedules were his biggest problems. Without a doubt this was the most embarrassing conversation of his entire life, but he was Baeden’s father, and discussing sexuality was an unavoidable aspect of parenting. “I’m telling you all this because I want you to hear it from me, not your friends, or from older kids on the school playground, or from a magazine, or a book.”

“Got it, Papa."

His son wasn't even slightly perturbed, and in light of some of the sexual situations he had almost walked in on since Arch started seeing Belle, that was saying something.

“You know you can always come to me with any problem or worry. Are there…do you have questions?” Gold asked, praying the answer was no.

The boy took a thoughtful sip of milk. “What kind of flower is Belle?” Bae asked after a moment.

“Um, well, Belle is smart and beautiful and rare…” Gold trailed off, taken aback by the maturity of the question. “What would you say, son?”  
  
“I think Belle is a rose. Not just any rose…but like the harlem roses that Grandma Gold gave us for the garden. The ones you take special care of.”

“Harlem?” Gold stroked his chin, then grinned. “Ah, you mean the heirloom roses?”

Bae nodded happily and Gold chuckled.

He’d underestimated his son.

“You’re a wise young man. I think you’re going to learn a lot in first grade this year, but I also think that first grade has a lot to learn from you.” He ruffled the boy’s dark mop of curls. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?” 

“Yeah. Can we go to Emma’s party now?”

“Haha. Ok, smarty pants,” Gold said, relieved to bring the discussion to a close. “Finish eating and wash your hands.”

* * *

She might have gotten a little carried away, but it was worth it. Surveying the piles of candy bracelets, necklaces, tiaras, crowns, and daggers—enough to fill a standing jewelry chest—Belle grinned with pride in the work she had accomplished. This party was important for the Sugar Shack, and hopefully being hired by the Nolans would entice other townspeople to approach her for custom creations and edible event supplies.

But even better than surprising Emma Nolan for her birthday was surprising the man she loved with a candy surprise for his eyes only. Belle nibbled her bottom lip as she imagined the look on Arch’s face when he saw her creation, and she felt the first stirrings of arousal as she pictured his reaction.

Belle slid the vibrating underpants over her thighs, tied the strings to either side of her hips, and nestled the homemade sugar pearls against her crotch with a tiny moan. Luscious candy underwear with a little shake and shimmy would be the perfect distraction for Arch.

Now that Baeden was entering first grade and would be attending school all day long, life was changing fast at the Gold home. Arch was taking this latest growing pain hard. So following Emma’s party, Bae was staying at August Booth’s for a little extra playtime and Belle was treating Arch to a picnic supper with a sinfully delicious surprise.

Belle dropped the remote connected to her naughty lingerie into her handbag and shivered in anticipation. Usually when she and Arch watched television or movies together, Belle played the role of couch commando, but tonight she intended to let Arch have full control of the remote.

As she drove to the Nolans’, the back of her Corolla loaded with party supplies, Belle couldn’t decide if she was more excited for the birthday celebration or the private afterparty she had planned for Arch.

When she pulled into the driveway in front of the Nolan family’s charming blue Cape Cod home, Bae met her at the car, bounding forward with excitement, followed by Arch.

“Belle!” Baeden yelled, wrapping his small arms around her hips. Arch leaned over his son’s head for a short, hard kiss.

“What perfect timing,” she said, beaming at her two favorite men over the towering hot chocolate birthday cake she had baked for the occasion. “Arch, would you get the box of candy jewelry? Bae, honey, would you mind grabbing my bag?”

“You’re the boss, Candy Girl,” Arch said, sweeping a gallant bow that caused Belle to erupt in giggles. “After you, my lady.”

“No, I’ll walk behind you,” Belle said, sneaking a peek at his fantastic ass. “The view from back here is highly motivating.”

At the gift table, Belle set down the cake, directed Arch and Bae to put down the items they’d carried from the car, and shooed them off to enjoy the festivities. She rubbed her hands together, excited to begin arranging the sweets.

Soon lost in the flurry of setting up for the party, she was surprised to feel a jolt of pleasure between her legs. “Oh!” she said, trying to steady her hands as she arranged cinnamon sugar-dusted butterflies around Emma’s cake. She’d almost dropped one of the candy insects into the frosting. Warmth suffused her face and she glanced around the Nolans’ backyard. A second tickle of arousal stole over her and Belle caught her breath at the sound of buzzing between her legs.

In her busyness, she’d forgotten all about her vibrating underwear, but she certainly hadn’t intended to turn them on during the party.

_Oh, dear God. The remote control. Where was it?_

Another pulse of sensation rolled through her, and Belle whipped her head around to see if Arch had discovered her. At her suggestion, her lover had forgone his usual three piece suit in favor of dark jeans and a practically see-through white shirt. No, he wasn’t looking her way. Instead he appeared to be making pleasant conversation with David Nolan. True, she wanted Arch to make nice with others. But with the oh-so-pleasant sensations the candy-lined panties were creating, his pleasant smirk made her want to rip off all his clothes and ride him on the front lawn in front of the entire neighborhood.

Belle groaned aloud at her own stupidity. What the hell had she been thinking?

Children, parents, and friends of Mary Margaret and David continued to arrive. Belle could feel beads of sweat pooling on her upper lip and she crossed and uncrossed her legs, rubbing her heels against her calves. Frantic, she looked around for her handbag as the buzzing sound beneath her skirt became louder and more insistent. There. Under the buffet table. She dove beneath its shelter and rummaged through her purse, but the remote was nowhere to be found.

It had fallen out. The thing could be anywhere.

“Afternoon, Belle.” Granny Lucas plopped a tray of lasagna on the table as Belle scrambled out from underneath the tablecloth. Granny laid a cool hand against Belle’s sweaty forehead. “I know it’s a warm day, but are you feeling all right, dear?”

“Fine,” Belle grunted. Another wave of pleasure washed over her and more sweat, born of arousal and embarrassment, trickled down her back. The intensity on the vibrator had been turned up, making the buzzing even louder.

“What is that noise?” Granny asked.

“Um, well—”

Blessedly, Emma and her band of girlfriends chose that moment to come tearing through the yard waving their American Girl dolls, and the sounds of their shouts and squeals drowned out the thrum of Belle’s naughty undies.

“Kids!” Belle crowed, gasping for breath.

Granny gave her a skeptical look. Between this incident and the scene at the diner a few months earlier when Bae had disclosed Belle’s tendency to purr like a kitten when she got excited, Belle knew she had lost all hope of gaining the older woman’s respect.

But right now she was too far gone to care.

She pressed her thighs together and moaned; those stupid candy pearls were tapping and rubbing against her center, driving her mad. The heat of her core was beginning to melt the candy coating, making her hotter and wetter by the moment. If only she could rip them off and stop this insanity. Arch chose that moment to catch her eye and throw her a sexy grin, causing a fresh flood of warmth to pool between her legs. “Ah,” she whimpered, biting her lip.

She was supposed to be setting up the candy jewelry, helping to serve food, and cutting the cake, but she couldn’t focus on any of her responsibilities.

Belle looked down the front of her wrap dress. Her nipples were standing at attention and the sight of Arch’s mouth moving as he spoke and smiled filled her mind with all the delicious things he could be doing to her breasts with lips and teeth and tongue.

Belle needed to come. If only she could come, she could clear her head and concentrate on helping with the party. But what was she supposed to do? Drag Arch back to the car to satisfy her?

The thought was entirely too tempting.

Spying the Nolans’ shed in the backyard, she moved to scramble behind it, a desperate plan forming in her sex-charged brain. She would slip out of the offending underwear and finish herself off. As hot as she was, it wouldn’t take long; she would just slide her hand between her thighs and be back to work in minutes.

“Belle!” Mary Margaret intercepted her en route to the shed and leaned in for a hug. Gingerly, Belle returned the squeeze, hoping her client and new friend couldn’t hear her the vibration between her legs.

“Everything looks fantastic!” Mary Margaret beamed. “You’ll help us unveil and cut the cake, right?”

“God, yes!” Belle ground out, desperate to gain the shed and take care of business.

Mary Margaret squinted at her, and Belle had a feeling this was the last house call she’d be making to the Nolans’, or anyone’s home, for that matter. If word about her crazy scheme got out, she’d could forget about being Main Street’s rising business star. No, she would be the laughingstock of Storybrooke.

“I mean yes, I’d be happy to,” Belle amended. “Please excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back,” Belle called over her shoulder as she dashed toward the shed.

* * *

Arch watched Belle cross and uncross her legs as she spoke to Mary Margaret Nolan, a wicked flush creeping up her chest and cheeks. Her plump lips were parted and her beautiful blue pupils were blown wide. Perhaps no one else noticed, but he has seen that look many times in the past several months.

Belle was aroused.

He edged closer, listening to Mary Margaret drone on about party details as Belle’s hands fisted in her skirt and she wiggled her hips in a nervous jerk.

Gold sidled closer to Belle, near enough to hear the conversation, but far enough to appear engaged elsewhere.

“Do you hear a buzzing?” Mary Margaret asked, glancing around the yard.

“Bees?” Belle suggested, the sound of her voice a high-pitched whine.

From behind a bush, Gold heard snickering. Baeden, August, and Emma were huddled around a small electronic device, pushing a button and giggling. He shifted his glance back and forth between the gaggle of kids and Belle. Then it dawned on him—there _had_ to be a connection. He and Belle had a date later, and she’d been tight-lipped about the details. With the next press of the button, Belle yelped, and Gold put two and two together. “I’ll take that, kids,” he said, swooping in and stealing the remote. “I know just who it belongs to.”

He turned around in time to see Belle tottering toward the large shed at the edge of the backyard. Before she could get there, a pair of tiny black underwear whooshed down her legs and pooled around her ankles. Little pink pearls came flying out from beneath her skirt, then rolled all over the lawn.

He would have laughed if the slump of her shoulders hadn’t been so devastated.

“Oh no!” she said, breaking into a run.

But Gold was faster. He snagged Belle’s arm with the hook of his cane and pulled her to a stop. She turned around to face him, her face bright red and tears gathering at the corners of her defeated eyes. 

“Come on,” he said, snatching up and pocketing the scrap of silk and lace. Aware that Bae and his friends were probably still watching, he grabbed Belle’s hand and dragged her behind the shed.  

There may be hell to pay, but he would worry about that later.

“Arch, wait—”

He cut off Belle’s protest with a searing kiss, driving his tongue into her mouth until she bucked her hips against his. “This is where you were headed, right?” he muttered, dropping his cane to wrap both arms around his girl.

He felt the nod of her head. “I’m sorry,” she gasped through shallow breaths. “I’ve made a terrible mess. You were feeling bad about Bae starting school, and I wanted to surprise you after the party. Then, my panties…” Her lower lip trembled and fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her brow then returning to her lips to bite and suck her pouting lower lip. Meeting her eyes, he cupped her hand against his straining erection.

“Oh,” she said, eyes widening.

“Indeed,” he replied. With one hand he pinched and rolled a turgid nipple, slipping the other between her damp thighs. She was as soft and warm as melted toffee, and Gold brought his fingers to his mouth for a taste. The flavor of Belle and the sticky sweetness of sugar were intoxicating, and he closed his eyes in bliss. How could he have believed for a moment that he didn’t like candy?

Gorgeous, adorable, sexy Belle French had done more than turned him on to sweets; she’d changed his entire world. He was beyond thankful Belle had come into their lives and filled their hearts with joy—a rare rose, indeed.

* * *

 Belle pressed against Arch as the need for release roared to life once more, burning away the shame of her public humiliation.

When his deft fingers parted her folds to find her clit, she howled, but he smothered the cry with another drugging kiss.

“You’ve been driving me crazy for almost an hour,” he said, unzipping his pants. “I finally figured out why.”   

“Arch,” she panted as he backed her hard against the shed, the siding scraping her neck. “Please.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” He bunched her skirt around her waist, lined them up, and sank into her with a low growl.

They rocked together at a feverish pace, nipping and sucking on each other’s necks. The smell of fresh-cut grass and the dim knowledge that fifty people were within earshot heightened each sensation. Past caring about the panties, the party, her business—anything but the man buried inside her—Belle curled one leg around Arch’s lean waist as he used the wall of the shed for leverage to give her what she craved.

After only a handful of thrusts, she came with a muffled scream against his throat, her buttocks and spine quivering with the force of her pleasure. Soon he followed her over the edge, and Belle moaned as the white hot pulse of his seed carried her to another orgasm.

“Me, driving you crazy?” she asked with mock affront, once she had the presence of mind and enough oxygen to speak. “You’re the one prancing around in tight jeans and a transparent shirt!”

“It was you who suggested I go casual,” he said, hiking a dark eyebrow. “Feel better now?”

“Much. I really needed that.”

“I know.” He buckled his belt with a self-satisfied grin. “Those pearls?” he asked, the question in his eyes.

“Candy,” she confessed, blushing furiously. “I made them.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I love you,” she said.

“I know that, too,” he said seriously, steering her back toward the party.

* * *

“Belle!” Mary Margaret rushed to her side the instant they reappeared. Good God, had the woman fitted her with a tracking device?

Bless him, Arch was busy kicking candy pearls under the rosebushes and studiously avoiding Mary Margaret’s gaze.

“Hi, Mrs. Nolan,” Belle said with a sigh.

“Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you to sing "Happy Birthday" and cut the cake.” Emma’s mother slung a friendly arm around Belle’s shoulders.

Their hostess seemed ignorant of all that had taken place, and Belle felt a sudden surge of hope. Maybe they could return to the party without incident.

“They were in the garden behind the shed,” Bae piped up. “Belle needed my dad to pollenate her.”

No such luck.

“Oh!” said Mary Margaret, smirking as she glanced between Belle and Arch.

“Thank you, Bae,” Arch said tightly, sending Belle a helpless look.

“I was listening to what you said about flowers and bees,” the boy told his father, pride lacing his words.

Their voices drifted away on the late summer breeze as Belle closed her eyes and began walking to her car. Her reputation as the town harlot was pretty much cemented. The Sugar Shack would go bankrupt. Worse, Bae was going to need therapy and it was all her fault. She may as well get Archie the therapist on the phone now.

“Hold on a second, Belle!” Mary Margaret called, jogging to catch up.

Shamefaced, Belle turned around to meet the eyes of her now-former friend. She owed the woman an apology and an explanation. “Mrs. Nolan, I’m so sorry. I never had any intention…I had leftover materials from the jewelry…they weren’t supposed to…Oh, God. I’m sorry.” Belle ground the toe of her shoe into the grass. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Belle, Belle. Relax.” Mary Margaret squeezed her shoulder, amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. “You agreed to call me Mary Margaret, remember?”

“Excuse me?” Belle couldn’t believe her ears.

“I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?”

“Not a bit. Mr. Gold and I are the only people who saw what happened, and the kids had no idea what they were playing with. There’s no harm done.” Mary Margaret blinked and lowered her voice. “Actually, I was wondering if you could make a pair or two of those underwear for me? They’ll really spice up my Taco Tuesdays with David.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes were clear and free of judgement, and Belle stared at the other woman in amazement. She’d meant what she said about friendship. Not only was she willing to forgive and forget, she wanted to share in the fun?

Sometimes people surprised you in the best possible way.

“I’m always happy to help a friend,” Belle said, a grin spreading over her face.

They both giggled, neither woman noticing Granny Lucas standing right behind them.

“Hmmmppphhh,” the older woman groused. “I’ll tell you one thing for certain: with all the tea, taco, and candy-making going on around here, the children in this town have gotta be damn confused about food prep.”

###

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me with your comments, people. You know I love 'em.


	5. Too Many Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold eats too many of his Candy Girl's candy apples and she must nurse him back to good health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darling friend Witchnova prompted "Could Belle be trying out a new ingredient for her shop and either she or Arch has a reaction to it. Lots of bedside manner and lovely making people better vibes."
> 
> Written for the Rumbelle Revolution Event!
> 
> MagnoliaTattoo is my incredible beta. She's awesome, folks.

Belle let herself into Gold’s house and quickly strolled through the foyer. She’d been craving a candy apple all day at the shop, and all the leftover apples following her Autumn Gala sale were here. She’d skipped dinner in favor of making extra batches of Christmas ribbon candy and jolly, fat chocolate Santa Clauses, and her stomach whined for sustenance. She could almost taste that first crunchy, sweet bite and her mouth watered in anticipation.

“Hey,” she called out, toeing off her heels and making a beeline for the kitchen. She needed an apple, _stat._ Belle searched the refrigerator and the pantry, then began opening cupboards in search of the caramel-and-nut-smothered fruit she had brought for Arch and Bae to enjoy last night.

“Save me one,” she’d joked yesterday when she delivered the tray, laden with ten perfect pommes coated in sugary goodness. There was no way that even the Gold men could consume that much candy.

But the apples were nowhere to be found.

“Guys?” Belle called into the den where the lights were out and the television was droning. “Where are all those caramel apples I brought over here yesterday? I left them after our Monopoly game last night.”

She kicked her shoes into the corner and hovered in the doorway, catching Baeden’s eye.

“Don’t look at me,” Bae said, pointing at his father who was lying on the couch keening. “I had one.”

“Arch?” Belle padded to the sofa and knelt down. His skin was coated with a thin sheen of sweat that glistened in the dying fire. She stroked sweaty strands of hair off his forehead.

“Belle? ‘S that you?” He moaned again, his eyes glassy and unseeing as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and loosened his Windsor knot. Released from the constricting tie, his Adam’s Apple seemed to bob toward her in relief.

“Yes, it’s me, baby,” she crooned, her brow furrowing in concern.

“I think I ate too many candy apples.” Arch swallowed hard, forcing the words through parched lips.  

Belle flattened her hand on his forehead and he shivered. His skin was scorching hot, his flat stomach slightly distended and hard.

“I think so too,” she said. She turned to Bae. “How long has he been like this?”

Bae looked at the clock on the mantel. “Since the little hand was on the six, I think."

“Oh, honey, why didn’t you call me?”

“Papa didn’t want to worry you when you’re so busy at the store getting ready for Christmas and all,” Bae said.

“Ridiculous man.” Belle blew out an exasperated sigh. “Doesn’t he know I’d do anything for either one of you?”

The man in question groaned and doubled over on the couch, clutching at his stomach. “Where were those apples from?”

“Wicked Orchards, why?” She caressed his belly in slow circles.

“The same Wicked Orchards owned by Zelena Greenlea?”

“The very same.”

“I should have known. She hates me.”

“Baby, no.” Belle tsked. “Zelena’s not my favorite vendor to do business with, either. Truth is I can’t bloody stand her. Still, I don’t think she would poison everyone in town out of spite toward you.”

“Wanna bet?” he muttered.

“I could have gone with another apple, true, but green apples are a wonderfully sharp contrast to all that butter and sugary caramel and chocolate,” Belle said. “Not to mention the richness of honey roasted peanuts. But I think it’s the quantity of apples you ate, not the variety.”

Gold burped loudly as the tinny taste of apples ricocheted up his throat. He held up a weak hand.  
  
“Please,” he begged. “No more talk of apples. I’m so dizzy.”

“To bed with you, my love,” Belle decided, helping him off the couch and guiding him up the stairs, his labored breaths echoing off the hardwood floors.

 _My love._ Arch felt a flutter of warm remembrance at the endearment, and he tried to chase down the thought. There was something he needed to tell Belle, but he couldn’t corner whatever it was. Tomorrow. He would figure it out tomorrow. Right now, the Storybrooke High School Marching Band was pounding the beat of their alma mater inside his skull and nothing would drown out the raucous sound.

“I’ll take care of you and get Bae off to school tomorrow,” Belle said, once they arrived in his bedroom. She kissed his blistering cheek as she cocooned him in the crisp crimson sheets and smoothed the counterpane around his shoulders. “Don’t worry about anything, Arch.”

“Belle, wait.” His mouth was dry, so dry; his tongue was fat and heavy in his mouth.

Belle had to lean in and listen closely. His voice was hoarse and his illness thickened his brogue. Two clammy hands groped for her in the dark. “Don leave me,” he slurred. “I…I don wanna to be alone when I’m sick.”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” she promised, smiling down at him. “I’m going to tuck Baeden in and I’ll be right back, darling.”

Belle closed the door behind her. Clad in Darth Vader pajamas, Bae was beating tracks up and down the hallway outside his father’s room. “Belle?” He pressed his lips together, his huge brown eyes shadowed with worry. “Is Papa ok?”

“He will be,” Belle said, shuffling Bae next door to his room. The little black cape from his pajamas billowed and swayed as he walked and Belle massaged his tiny shoulders. “After some rest and tender loving care.”

“Belle,” he said around a yawn, “are you going to stay here tonight?”

“I am,” she said. “Your dad is pretty sick and he needs someone to stay with him—an adult,” she clarified.

“Are you…are you mad at me for not calling?” he asked.

“Of course not. You obeyed your Papa, and that’s exactly what you should have done.”

Satisfied, Bae snuggled under his X-Wing sheets and stretched his arms in another huge yawn. “Maybe you could move all your things here and stay forever,” he suggested.

Belle’s heart melted like butter.

“That’s very sweet, angel,” she said, and then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He gave her a sleepy smile. Nothing would give her greater joy than to become a more permanent part of their lives, but she couldn’t burden a child with that hope. Not when…never mind. It wasn’t the time to question Arch’s feelings.

“Now,” she said brightly, trying to distract them both, “why don’t you choose a bedtime story?”

xoxo

Belle read only half of _Frog and Toad Are Friends_ before Bae fell asleep.

Anxious about Arch, she retrieved a bucket from under the bathroom sink and tiptoed back to his bedroom. From the doorway, she could hear his tortured breaths, and she scrambled to the bed and touched her fingers to his wrist. His pulse was strong but fast. She quickly stripped down to her bra and panties and settled down in the bed, drawing his head against her chest. The sheets were already cold and damp with sweat, and heat radiated off his body. Groans of discomfort overwhelmed the room, echoing off the walls.

Belle swept her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to pillow his head on her chest. Suddenly he lurched up and she stretched her arms in front of him. As he emptied his stomach, she held the bucket with one hand and pressed against his burning forehead with the other.

Her mother had always held her forehead when she vomited. She remembered the time she and Mama had tested fudge recipes and she had enthusiastically consumed half her weight in chocolate walnut fudge. It had been weeks before she could look at the stuff, let alone make it. But Mama had soothed her with a gentle, cool hand against her head, and she yearned to provide that same comfort to Arch.

With light hands, she pushed him back into the mattress and lay beside him once more. Side-by-side, they drifted into a restless sleep.

“Don’t pack the green suitcase.”

Belle’s eyes flew open. “What?” she asked, startled.

Arch smacked his lips. “The green suitcase smells like mothballs. Don’t pack it.”

“Ok,” Belle said, stifling a giggle. “I won’t.”

He flipped over onto his stomach, his mouth open against the pillows. “Bees pollinate flowers….that’s right, Bae. No, I like chicken tacos,” he mumbled. “Not beef. The Nolans like beef.”

Belle stroked his arms, trying to calm him as he thrashed and muttered. His sleep talk would have been funnier—if she hadn’t been so worried. The fever and retching could lead to dehydration, and she put her hand on the telephone, ready to place a call to Doctor Whale.

“More Cheetos? Yes, please. The world should have more Cheetos,” he declared.

Belle didn’t even know he _liked_ Cheetos. Perhaps she could determine a way to work them into a dessert—when he felt better.

The stream of babbling continued throughout the night, sometimes trickling and other times gushing out. Belle continued to hush and coo, trying to soothe him with light touches when he became agitated. From time to time she would offer him water, but the most she succeeded in doing was wetting his dry lips and dribbling a few drops of water on his tongue.

“Get the suitcase, Belle. Not the green. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” she crooned near his ear. “Shhhhhh, rest.”

“Belle!” he yelled, bolting up in bed and opening his eyes.

“What is it, my love?” she asked, pushing on his shoulders to lay him back down. But in his delirium he refused to budge. He grabbed her hands, his eyes glazed with illness.

Unnerved by his urgency, she tried to wrest her hands out of his grip, but he was incredibly strong. His eyes were black as ink in the darkness, and for a moment she thought that he was awake and conscious. “Belle, I love you. I can’t live without you. Don’t…don’t ever leave me sweetheart. Bae and I, we need you.”

 _I love you_.

It was the first time he’d ever said those words, and Belle felt like she was soaring. A declaration of love brought on by eating bad apples wasn’t quite what she’d pictured, but the lightness in her spirit couldn’t be denied.

With a smile on her face, she laid a cool washcloth against his cheek and kept vigil for the rest of the night.

xoxo

Belle gave the rich bone marrow broth a final stir and ladled some into a bowl with unsteady hands. Some of the soup slopped on the stove and dripped down the countertop to pool onto the floor, but she didn’t care. It could be cleaned up later. Managing Bae’s before-school routine without injuring either of them had been a minor miracle. She’d almost sliced open her hand with a butter knife while spreading mustard on his sandwich, she’d had trouble regulating the water temperature in the shower and almost scalded him, and on his way out to the bus, Bae had almost tripped and fallen over the shoes she’d carelessly abandoned in the hallway last night. Belle felt a pull of guilt for being glad Arch wasn’t there to witness all her mistakes.

Yes, a sleepless night in the middle of a punishing holiday season at The Sugar Shack was taking its toll. Although he had gotten some rest, his sleep was fitful. He had tossed and turned and talked throughout the night.

As for her, well, Belle was exhausted. Not only from the efforts of taking care of the Gold men, but from obsessing over Arch’s overnight confessions _. It was the fever_ , she told her summersaulting heart.

 _I love you, Belle._ Her eyes smarted with tears at the happy memory. The lack of rest was worth it for the chance to hear those wonderful words.

She prepared a tray of weak tea, dry toast, and the special broth and carried it upstairs. Arch was awake and staring at the ceiling. His eyes were shadowed and his face was pale and drawn, but he looked better than he had last night.

“Brought you some soup,” she said, mustering her most congenial smile and sitting on the edge of the bed.

He grunted in reply, but she overlooked the slight. He was tired and needed time to recover.

“Sip it slow,” she directed, blowing on the spoonful of soup as she held it aloft.

“I don’t want that. I need meat,” he barked, jerking back. The sudden movement caused a sharp pain to slice through his abdomen.

Belle stared at him in surprise. _Meat?_

“Don’t be embarrassed about the apples,” she said. “It could happen to anyone.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he retorted, feeling a flush creep up his neck. Maybe she would think it was the fever. Covering his discomfiture, he treated his bewildered girlfriend to his most imperious stare. “I don’t want soup.”

“Bae helped me make this broth before he left for school,” Belle said, her brows arched in stubborn insistence. “And you’re eating it. A few spoonfuls to see if you can keep it down.”

“Forget it,” he said, twisting on the pillow.

“You are the world’s worst patient, my love,” Belle said with forced cheer. He was pissing her off, truth be told, but there was a world of suffering in those beautiful brown eyes. She couldn’t bear to cause him any more pain. _A gentle word turns away anger_ , she reminded herself.

Summoning a patience she didn’t feel, she continued to hold the spoon aloft and he accepted it. “That’s it, my love,” she coaxed. “Another bite.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” he bit out. In vain, he tried to wrench the spoon from her grasp, but he didn’t even have the strength for that miniscule action.

Defeated, Gold scowled and drank another mouthful of warm soup from her hand. He detested being sick. Sickness, like pain, was weakness—and all weakness had to be stamped out. Gold knew he was being ornery and unkind to Belle, but he couldn’t seem to help his bad attitude.

“Saying what?” she asked.

“My love.” He spit out the words like they were filthy.

Belle dropped the spoon, and it clattered on the hardwood. _Perhaps all his sleep-talking really had been meaningless_. “Does…” she swallowed, “does it bother you?”

Arch noticed Belle’s body trembling. Her face had gone as white as the crisp new sheets she’d put on his bed after sunrise. He faltered. Perhaps he had read the situation wrong. “Not if,” he lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes after behaving like such a jerk. “Not if you mean it.”

She looked at him blankly. “Of course I mean it. I told you at Emma’s party two months ago after we made love behind the shed. You didn’t say anything except ‘I know.’ I thought maybe you weren’t ready for love,” she finished softly.

“Oh, Belle.” He grabbed her hands, as tightly as he could, and kissed her palms, warm and fragrant from the soup she’d been feeding him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been an absolute beast, haven’t I?”

“I’d like to clock you with that rather large paperweight,” she admitted, nodding toward the small yet heavy bust of Albert Einstein on the nightstand. “But you already have a nasty headache. And as I said, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Belle.” It was no feverish confession, Belle realized. His eyes were warm, clear and earnest.  He continued. “You—well, it sounds trite, but you’ve completed our life, mine and Bae’s. Filled a place I didn’t even know was empty.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, her eyes stinging with tears. “I was afraid I was all alone—being in love.”

“No. You’re not alone. Never alone,” he whispered.

“Good. Now how about a massage?” she asked,  wiping her eyes with her sleeves and then rolling them up.

“Belle,” he protested, shaking his head, “you’ve already done so much to take care of me and Bae...” he trailed off, the idea of her relaxing his stiff and strained muscles almost too tempting to refuse.

“Aww, come on. I have strong hands from stirring giant cauldrons of chocolate and sugar. You won’t be disappointed.” Belle winked and flexed her fingers. “Turn on your side, my love.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?” he asked playfully.

“Where you’re concerned I have to be,” she said. “Roll over.”

Arch rolled to his right side, allowing Belle to scoot behind him. Propping her head on one hand, she began running her fingers in long strokes from his neck to his shoulder and down his elbow. Knowing his muscles were tender from illness, she kept the touch light but firm, trailing her fingers back up his arm to squeeze his shoulder. His muscles weren’t large, but they were lean and hard, and Belle marveled at his beauty. Even when he was at his worst, every movement he made bespoke power and grace.

Within a few minutes, Belle could feel him sinking into the mattress as he relaxed into the massage. She attacked the larger muscle groups of his lower body, reaching down to just below his knee to press her palm against his iliotibial band, running it all the way to his hip. Once there, she dipped down to catch the upper part of his glute, rubbing in small circles to ease the tension.

“Unnnnhhhhh.” Arch released a pleasured groan when she hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“Oh, do you like that, my love?” Belle smiled as she watched herself stroke back down his thigh. Moisture began to pool between her legs and she pressed them together to ease the dull ache rising.

Just being close to him like this, touching his body, melted her into a hot, sticky puddle. She teased his groin muscle, fingers creeping higher, until she found him, bobbing hard and insistent against his right thigh.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he said, ashamed of his arousal. Why would she want anything to do with him when he was clad in last night’s grubby pajamas and probably smelling of vomit and God only knew what else?

“Don’t be,” she breathed, parting the opening in his pajamas and drawing him out.

“But I’m…” The protest died on his lips as he felt the whisper of silk sliding down his legs.

“I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes, too,” she said, tugging his pajama trousers down.

Belle hiked up her skirt around her hips and shimmied out of her panties before returning her attention to his cock. Arch was silken, smooth, and almost unbearably hot, a comforting and exciting weight in her palm. With slow, soft strokes, Belle fondled, stretched, and kneaded his flesh, reveling in every groan that fell from his lips.

Sensual sounds floated through the air, moans and whispers of her name, a sweet melody of pleasure. His urgent, raspy voice was driving her crazy, and she rubbed her mound against his smooth buttocks in agonizingly slow circles. At last she felt his breath hitch in his throat as his tension climbed to unbearable heights.

“Belle!” he cried. Gold bucked his hips, thrusting into her hand, and spilled his seed with a long, low moan. She rocked with him through his thrusts, spurring him on.

She cradled him, guiding him through his pleasure until he was boneless and sated, a quivering mass of sensation.

Belle wrapped both arms around his stomach, beginning to pant and whimper with her own need. He pressed his hips back against her core, encouraging her to find a quicker rhythm against his arse.

“Come for me, my love,” he urged. Her core pulsed and throbbed in a glorious heartbeat, and Gold marveled that she wanted him even like _this—_ sick and stubborn.

_My love._

Belle broke, crying out at his use of the endearment. She eased one leg over his hip and ground herself against his clenched buttocks, release stealing over her in warm, languid waves.

“Mmmm.” She smiled against his back. “That was wonderful.”

“You’re incredible, Belle. You make me feel so good. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said, closing her eyes and tucking her head between his shoulder blades.

“Arch?” she asked, when her breathing slowed. “Where’s this green suitcase you kept talking about last night? The one that smells like mothballs?”

Confused, he rolled from his side to his back and looked at her. “I don’t have a green suitcase. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she said, eyes twinkling with love as she gazed at him. “No reason at all.”

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Gold's sick day!


	6. Food Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold is helping Belle make candy at the Sugar Shack. A little food fight leads to a sexy kitchen encounter.
> 
> For my 1,000 Follower Tumblr Prompt-A-Thon, Magnoliatattoo prompted: Food Fight - it gets kinda messy. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all Magnoliatattoo's fault, so blame her three prompts.
> 
> CandyGirl!Belle made some rather large cherry flavored lollipops. Gold visits her at her shop and decides to try one. But only after it's covered in Belle. #sorryimabadperson #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Candy Girl!Belle: How are those Lollipops coming? Are they ready for a taste test? I bet I know someone who would volunteer...

“What?” Gold suspended the squeeze bottle in mid-air, freezing as he felt Belle look over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” 

He huffed and turned around to face her. He knew that tone of voice all too well. “I can tell it’s not  _nothing,_ so just say it.”

“Well, if you must know, you’re filling those molds a little too full.”

Gold plunked the bottle of chocolate down on the stainless steel worktable. “You said to fill the molds, aye? You need these candies? This _is_ still a candy shop, right?”

Belle bit her lip to keep from laughing. Arch’s  normally smooth brogue was colored with a tinge of irritation, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“Never mind.” She turned back to the cherry lollipops she was working with, pounding them on the table once, then twice, to extract the air bubbles before the candy hardened. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Fine.” Squaring his shoulders defensively he returned his attention to the chocolate drops. “You asked me to help,” he muttered, eyeing her askance.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and capped by a hairnet, chocolate smudges adorning her cheeks and chin. She looked adorable and utterly delectable and he grinned in spite of himself.

“Except you really should be wearing an apron,” She waved a hand toward his typical three-piece suit ensemble, training her gaze on his Ralph Lauren Black Label cravat. “And a hairnet.”

He rolled his eyes and stopped pouring molds. This was not to be borne.

“That thing?” He pointed to the black mesh web covering her auburn curls, then self-consciously patted his own soft locks. It took time and effort to tame his hair into floofy perfection. Time he wasn’t about to squander looking like a fool. “I refuse.”

“Vain, are we?” Belle picked up a bottle raspberry syrup, shifting it from hand-to-hand with a wide grin on her face.

“You wouldn’t.” Devilish intentions were written all over her sweet face.

“Oh, babe.” Her broad grin narrowed to a seductive smirk. “You underestimate me.”

“Ha!” he said, revolving his bottle of melted chocolate and squirting it all over the neckline of her blue silk blouse.

Belle squealed, dropping the raspberry syrup in surprise. “You’re going to pay for that.” She grabbed his hand and aimed the bottle of chocolate at his head, squeezing his fingers to apply pressure. Rivulets of chocolate, sticky and sweet, sprayed into his hair and dripped over his head, splattering his collar.

The war was on, the kitchen their battlefield.

Laser-precise streams of apricot jam, chocolate, and fruity syrups met their targets, while bits of hardened cherry candy hurtled through the air like shrapnel.

Gold whirled around to the back counter. He scooped up a handful of flour and whipped it over his head. The powder flew everywhere, dusting the entire kitchen in a soft white blanket.

Belle sputtered and launched a scoopful of peanut butter at his head, smacking him square in the forehead.

Gold retaliated by flinging spoonfuls of strawberry preserves into her face. “Peanut butter and jelly,” he crowed, delighted. “Bae’s favorite!”

“Arch, stop!” She shrieked, laughing as they lowered their weapons. She removed her soiled apron and unbuttoned her ruined bloused, batting her eyelashes innocently. “Now look what you’ve gone and done.”

“Me?” His mouth watered at the outline of her dark, puckered nipples through the lacy cream fabric of her bra. Her chest rose and fell with each quick, shallow breath as he narrowed the gap between them. “I think you’ve made a deal you don’t understand, sweetheart.”

He seized her hips, yanking her against his body, and kissed her hard. His mouth slanted over hers, seeking and demanding, and she blossomed like a flower, petal-soft and welcoming. She tasted like cherry candy and chocolate and _Belle_. Still plundering her mouth, Gold moaned and shifted his hands to her breasts, tweaking her nipples through her bra until she panted.

He unclasped the lacey confection with one hand, and plucked and nipped at her breast with the other. Once free, he squeezed her breasts together, burying his face in her décolletage and inhaling her sweet, musky scent.

“I love you, Belle.”

“Love you,” she whimpered, struggling to breathe. “See…” she stuttered, as they both looked down at her hardened nipples, “see what you do to me?”

Gold reached for one of the ruined cherry lollipops, now tacky and dusted in flour. “You can’t sell these now,” he teased, angling the candy toward her body.

Her eyes darkened to indigo, hot with desire, and she nodded her permission. Holding his breath, he sucked the lollipop into his mouth to wet it, then rubbed the cherry candy all over her sternum and breasts. Satisfied that she was thoroughly coated, he bent his head to lap and suck at her nipples again. The sweet heat of her skin and the intense flavor of cherries exploded over his tongue.

He was hard and aching to be inside her, but he squeezed his eyes shut, battling for control over the stinging arousal. He wasn’t finished having fun quite yet.

Bucking her hips, Belle cried out, grinding herself against him. “Please, Arch….please.”

“Yes, my love.” Gold slipped his hand under her skirt and pulled her panties aside, plunging his fingers deep into her warmth. His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned. She was hot and tight, swollen and _his_. He worked her sex hard and fast, thrusting his hand in and out of her core until she gripped his shoulders, her fingers biting through the fabric of his flour-coated suit.

Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were flushed, and sweaty tendrils of hair had escaped the hairnet. God, she was glorious. Nothing gave him more joy than watching her take pleasure from his mouth and body.

“Arch!” Belle threw back her head and screamed his name, clasping her fingers behind his neck and holding on to keep from falling as she jerked against his hips and her channel fluttered around his hand, clenching his fingers.

He gave her a moment to calm, then with a wicked smile, he lowered the cherry lollipop under her skirt, and dragged it through her slick folds.

“Ah,” she moaned, the cool hardness of the candy a sinful contrast to her warm, sensitive flesh, “do, ah, do it again.” He did, massaging the sucker head against her clit in a tight circular motion over and over until she came again with a howl.

Sated and content, Belle slumped forward against his chest, trusting him to hold her up.

Smirking into her sex-glazed eyes, Gold licked his lips and popped the candy, now slick and coated with her essence, into his mouth.

He was painfully aroused and the taste of her on the candy was too much. “Oh, God.” Releasing the lollipop, he slammed his hips against her center, coming in his pants with a hoarse shout.

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys could see how red my cheeks are...


End file.
